


I’d die for you on my terms (when I get my lessons learned)

by Some_Dead_Guy



Series: Geraskier Oneshots [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, and a bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Dead_Guy/pseuds/Some_Dead_Guy
Summary: Jaskier wasn’t exactly expecting to take an arrow to the shoulder for a Witcher when his day first began, but his life hasn’t been any form of predictable for a long time now.Or, Jaskier gets hurt and Geralt is getting too old for this kind of stress.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607311
Comments: 31
Kudos: 1273





	I’d die for you on my terms (when I get my lessons learned)

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read so I’m terribly sorry for any of the mistakes!
> 
> Title is from home with you by FKA twigs

Jaskier supposes the catastrophe truly starts when he begs Geralt to stop and rest for the night. He whines and he groans, about how his feet hurt and how he’s tired until Geralt finally gives in and finds a suitable spot to settle down. 

(He doesn’t tell Geralt that he’s so persistent because he knows Geralt hasn’t properly slept in five days and Jaskier has steadily become more and more worried about his Witcher).

They eventually find a spot in the woods and Geralt is murmuring something to Roach and gently petting her muzzle as he leashes her to a tree. Jaskier has found that it’s really hard to be scared of someone who talks to their horse regularly, and Jaskier quietly chuckles to himself at the thought of other people seeing Geralt like this. He’d like to see someone try to scream  _ mutant  _ and  _ monster  _ at someone who is cooing lovingly at their horse. __

Because Geralt isn’t that intimidating, especially not  _ now _ , after all the time they’ve spent traveling together. He’s rough around the edges, sure, and he may have the social and emotional capabilities of a piece of celery, but he’s hardly a  _ monster _ . Jaskier is sure that monsters do not allow annoying bards to sing their praises and follow them across the continent.

Jaskier plops down next to a log and begins to lay out their bed rolls, even though he’s sure Geralt probably won’t willingly sleep tonight. He hopes he does, and if he doesn’t Jaskier has no qualms in forcing him to. And by forcing him Jaskier means he will annoy him so much he’ll have no choice but to finally give into Jaskier’s demands.

Geralt stalks off at one point, leaving Jaskier to go about starting a fire. Geralt has likely gone to hunt something to eat, and Jaskier hums to himself as he works. Jaskier always feels the slightest bit triumphant every time he gets a fire to start, it makes him feel  _ useful,  _ even if Geralt likes to say he’s a liability at best.

They’re at a point in their relationship where Jaskier realizes that Geralt only says such things because he’s quite horrid at dealing with any sort of emotions, or god forbid  _ caring  _ for someone, but Jaskier likes to somehow prove himself every once in a while. He doesn’t think Geralt’s will just up and leave him at this point, but he still likes to try and solidify his position in their companionship. 

Geralt takes longer than he usually does, and Jaskier can’t help but fidget where he’s sitting on his bed roll. Even Roach seems to become restless, and Jaskier goes silent, listening for Geralt.

Jaskier turns around at the sound of a snapping twig, and sure enough Geralt is finally back. He looks  _ exhausted,  _ a hare hanging limply from his hand and even that looks to be too much weight to carry. His steps are heavy and his head tips forward drowsily.

Jaskier snaps up and walks over to Geralt, taking the dead animal from his hand, “You look like you're about to fall over.” Jaskier chastises, tone more playful then he feels.

Geralt grunts, but gives no protest when Jaskier pulls him forward. “Sit.” Jaskier orders, and he has every intention of making Geralt eat and then  _ immediately  _ making him sleep.

Before he can begin to properly berate his Witcher an arrow whizzes past Jaskier, missing his head by mere centimeters, and Geralt is alert in an instant. Jaskier drops the hare in his surprise and Geralt already has his steel sword drawn, sniffing the air and scanning the trees.

“Oh dear.” Jaskier murmurs, unsure what to do or where to stand.

Then there’s a man lunging out from the trees, immediately going for Geralt. Geralt has a sword in the man’s gut in seconds, and that’s when Jaskier notices who must have shot the first arrow. They’re hiding in shrubbery, but they have their bow trained on Geralt and Jaskier’s breath hitches because Geralt  _ hasn’t even realized it yet _ .

Jaskier is reaching for the dagger he keeps in his boot before he can properly think and is sliding in front of Geralt before his brain can even catch up to what it is he’s doing. It doesn’t happen as slow as he thought it would, like how he’s heard, that things such as this seem to happen in slow motion. 

It feels as quick as a whip cracking, he throws his dagger and by some miracle it lands in the archer’s throat, but their arrow does not stop. It finds home in Jaskier’s shoulder.

There’s a moment where Jaskier doesn’t even register the pain and he simply gasps out a weak, “ _ Oh _ .” And then he’s collapsing, the adrenaline coursing through his veins fading away.

“Jaskier!” He can hear Geralt yell, and then he can feel large, warm hands grasping at him. 

Jaskier looks up at Geralt, and his eyes are wide, and they hold something  _ wild  _ and  _ feral _ in them.

“Stay awake.” Geralt growls, holds Jaskier up so he doesn’t fall back.

“Okay.” Jaskier gasps, nods his head, “Staying awake right now.” He rambles, already feeling light headed. 

His shoulder burns and he feels sticky with blood and sweat, and Geralt starts to rip his shirt open to get to the wound. All of the tiredness from earlier seems as if it has evaporated, Geralt moving quickly and efficiently, yet he still makes sure not to make anything worse.

“You idiot.” Geralt hisses, “I could’ve taken it and been fine.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Jaskier wheezes, but he’s not completely sorry, because he’d probably take an arrow for Geralt again, Witcher healing or not.

“I saw him before you though.” Jaskier laughs breathlessly even though it hurts, “See, I am useful.”

Geralt grinds his teeth, and Jaskier can see his jaw clench even if his eyes are blurry.

“This will hurt.” Geralt grinds out, and Jaskier can feel one of the Witcher’s hands grasp the front of the arrow, and the other holds the back of his shoulder.

Jaskier shudders out another laugh, “Already hurts as is.”

Geralt’s lips press together and then he’s pushing the arrow through the other side and Jaskier can’t even  _ scream _ . He opens his mouth and all that escapes is a high pitched reedy noise, and his body jerks and Geralt holds him through it.

Jaskier slumps heavily against Geralt when the arrow is out and he gasps harshly against the crook of Geralt’s neck. His hands are clutching so hard at Geralt’s armor that it digs painfully into his palms but Jaskier can’t bear the thought of letting go, not ever, but especially not  _ now. _

Jaskier can feel the blood dripping down his skin and he’s sure that he is going to die.

“I love you.” He chokes, because he’ll be  _ damned  _ if he’s going to die without being able to say it at least once.

“I love you.” He says again, just to say it, just to know that in this moment he  _ can _ . 

And if he does die, he could think of worse ways to go. Dying for the man he loves is all rather romantic, it’d make a beautiful song, Jaskier thinks, one that perfectly fits his legacy. Being killed by a simple bandit isn’t the best thing to die for Geralt over, but Jaskier supposes he’ll have to take what he can get considering he’s bleeding out in his Witcher’s arms.

“And I’m your very best friend, and you are mine, no matter how much you want to deny it.” Jaskier gasps, because he has to make sure Geralt  _ knows. _ Jaskier vaguely registers that Geralt is picking him up now, moving him carefully towards Roach.

“Shut up.” Geralt growls, eyes still wild and glowing in the moonlight and Jaskier smiles.

“You’ll still always be Geralt, even when I’m dying.”

“You are  _ not _ dying.” Geralt barks, places Jaskier down before he rummages through one of the packs attached to Roach.

“Okay.” Jaskier whispers even if he doesn’t believe it, and then everything starts to become fuzzy, and he can’t even feel Geralt cleaning and dressing his wound.

“I’m tired.” Jaskier mumbles, and his world is starting to fade.

He hears Geralt yell his name, Geralt telling him to keep his eyes open, but all Jaskier can think of is what  _ I love you  _ would sound like coming from Geralt’s lips as he falls into the darkness.

_______

Geralt stares at the sleeping bard, his face is pale and the skin around his eyes look sunken in, but he’s still  _ breathing  _ still  _ alive,  _ and Geralt can still hear the bard’s heartbeat in his ears.

It’s been three days since Jaskier was shot in the woods, three days of pure  _ torture _ . Geralt got the wound treated, dressed and cleaned, and the only other thing he’s done is get a room in the closest town to let the bard rest in and  _ wait.  _ Because that’s all he can do, wait, and hope that the bard will be fine, hope he will eventually wake up.

He hasn’t heard a single noise from Jaskier in days, and he would have previously thought the silence would feel like a blessing, but it only sets Geralt on edge, makes him feel as if something is wrong. Jaskier is loud, he is energetic and talkative, and he sings and he hums and talks nonstop, but the man that lies in the bed before him is as still and as silent as corpse.

Geralt grasps the bard’s hand, and he can feel the pulse beneath his fingers and he can hear his heartbeat, but he’s still so  _ scared  _ that Jaskier is going to die. Geralt almost forgot what it felt like to feel  _ fear _ , but in this moment it’s all he can feel, cold and suffocating and it makes his heart beat harder against his ribs.

_ “I love you.” _

Jaskier was bleeding out in his hands and he had said he had  _ loved _ him. The stupid idiot jumped in front of that arrow because he  _ loved  _ him. And if Geralt had actually fucking slept instead of staying up countless nights driving himself crazy over what he  _ feels  _ for the bard he would have noticed the archer sitting in the bushes, waiting for their shot.

Because, apparently, realizing he was in love with a silly, obnoxious, and so incredibly  _ loud  _ bard made it quite hard to sleep. And now Jaskier is hurt because of his mistake. Jaskier said he loved him and all he gets out of being friends with a Witcher is  _ hurt. _

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s hand squeeze his and his head snaps up, his unnatural amber eyes meeting soft, cornflower blue.

“Hey, Geralt.” Jaskier says, and his voice is hoarse from disuse and Geralt wants to  _ sob  _ in relief at the sound.

“Jaskier.” He says, breathlessly, like the sound has been punched out of his chest.

Jaskier licks his lips, clears his throat, “So, I’m not dead then?”

Geralt shakes his head, “No, but you could’ve been. You lost a lot of blood, and you’ve been out for the past three days.” Geralt feels the slightest twinge of anger then, not exactly at Jaskier, but at himself for allowing Jaskier to get hurt in the first place.

“You shouldn’t have jumped in front of me, you idiot.” He growls, latching onto the anger because he doesn’t know how to express the utter  _ relief  _ he feels, doesn’t know how to say  _ I love you  _ when he so badly wants Jaskier to know.

“I know.” Jaskier says, “But I’d do it again.”

Geralt’s makes a noise, low and guttural, one he doesn’t even mean to make.

“Geralt!” Jaskier huffs, “Don’t growl at me, it’s rude. Especially since I almost died. And I’ll have you know I’ll almost die for you again no matter how many strange, animalistic noises you make at me.”

“Jaskier—”

“And  _ nothing _ , I saved you so from getting an arrow in the throat while you were running on little more than adrenaline and fumes.” Jaskier says, eyes determined and set into a steely sort of resolve. Jaskier is about as intimidating as a small puppy, but Geralt gives in anyway.

Geralt frowns but says, “Don’t do it again, but,” Geralt grinds his teeth together, “Thank you.”

Jaskier smiles, “No need to thank me Witcher, I’m only in mildly excruciating pain.”

Geralt leans forward, suddenly alarmed, “I have a salve that should help.”

Jaskier stares at him for a moment before he laughs, “I’m only joking, I can’t feel much right now.”

Geralt sighs in exasperation, leaning back just a bit. 

They sit in silence for a few moments and he can see Jaskier begin to shift nervously, biting his lips and flexing his hand where it’s still clasped beneath Geralt’s. 

_ “I love you.” _

Geralt wants to say something but doesn’t know where to begin. Jaskier had believed he was dying, he could've said anything, delirious with the blood loss. How could he even mean it, and if he does where do they go from there? Because Jaskier is still human, and Geralt is still a Witcher and everyone Geralt loves  _ dies  _ or  _ leaves. _

And Geralt is still exhausted, because he hasn’t slept in a week and his bones feel as if they’re too heavy for his skin.

“You’re thinking about it too.” Jaskier says, voice delicate and small.

Geralt looks up at him, sees a sort of tired resignation in eyes that are so  _ blue. _

“I wanted to tell you, in case I died. Well, I was sure I was going to die, then, and I didn’t want to die never telling you. I know you don’t feel the same—”

“Jaskier—”

“And really, Geralt it’s  _ fine. _ Just don’t leave me, you can pretend it never happened, just please don’t  _ leave. _ ” Jaskier’s breath shudders and Geralt’s heart  _ aches _ more than he thought possible.

“I won’t leave.” Geraly says, his voice softer than he ever remembers it being.

Jaskier lets out a teary sigh, “Sorry, getting impaled by a bandit isn’t particularly good for the nerves.”

Geralt smiles, just a little bit when Jaskier looks over at him with his big watery eyes. 

“I love you, too.” Geralt whispers, because his bard almost  _ died  _ and he somehow thinks Geralt could even  _ consider _ leaving.

Jaskier’s breath catches, hitching on a high pitched sound of surprise. “Do you mean it? Because I  _ swear  _ if this is some strange form of pity—”

“It’s not pity.” Geralt quickly interjects, “I mean it.” He says, gentler, and lets one of his hands cup Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier shivers, scrabbles to hold the back of Geralt’s hand. “Okay, okay good.” He breathes, and then he’s smiling, giddy and full of energy. “I love you and as much as I’d like to explore what  _ that  _ entails, you need to sleep first.”

Geralt’s furrows his brows in confusion. “What?”

“Have you slept at all these past few days?” Jaskier asks, and there’s a look on his face that  _ dares  _ Geralt to try and lie to him.

“No.” Geralt answers, and he feels strangely guilty because of it.

Jaskier huffs, “Of course you haven’t. Come here.”

Jaskier carefully moves over and pats the space left beside him, staring expectantly up at Geralt. Geralt gets in the bed, never taking his eyes off of Jaskier. They’ve slept together before, when nights got too cold and Jaskier’s teeth would click together violently, but this feels different. 

Jaskier moves closer to him, and although he’s careful of his shoulder he pushes his legs between Geralt’s and he throws an arm around Geralt’s waist.

“Can’t believe you still can’t properly take care of yourself, Witcher.” Jaskier says, but he’s smiling and he looks so much more alive now, talking and laughing and smiling, so incredibly warm where he’s pressed against Geralt.

Geralt hums, already feeling drowsy. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier frowns, “Whatever for?”

“I should’ve protected you.” Geralt murmurs.

Jaskier’s fingers draw mindless, soothing patterns on his back, “Don’t give me that. You have no reason to apologize, and if I remember correctly,  _ I  _ was the one who jumped in the line of danger.”

Jaskier must see something in his face that says he’s about to argue because he’s interrupted before he can even say anything, “ _ Sleep _ , you oaf. You can apologize your little heart out and I can argue with you later.”

“Fine.” Geralt rumbles, because as much as he hates to admit it, Jaskier is a comforting weight against him and the bed, as cheap as it is, is better than the ground or a bed roll and his eyelids are drooping on their own volition. 

Geralt falls asleep to the feeling of soft lips pressed against the corner of his mouth and a whispered  _ I love you _ .

When he wakes the next morning, Jaskier is playing his lute, wincing when it strains his shoulder, but he sings nonetheless, an endless source of energy and happiness. He smiles at Geralt when he notices he’s awake, and the corner of his eyes crinkle and he looks so young and so  _ alive. _

Geralt thinks,  _ I could get used to this. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m not too proud of this one, but I really want to post more fics and more often,,, and I’m working on multiple fics for this ship so hopefully they all get posted at one point oof
> 
> Also! All the support on my other fics is so cool and I’m grateful for every kudo and comment, even if I’m a bit too socially awkward to be sure on how to respond to them haha


End file.
